The Omnipotent System

The sky above the city darkened as a powerful figure descended, his aura so intense that the very air seemed to tremble in response. A man roared, his voice booming across the heavens like thunder. "What is happening?" he bellowed, his mere presence sending waves of energy that rippled through the atmosphere. His power was palpable—an overwhelming force that made the ground beneath him crack.

Everyone in close proximity immediately fell to their knees, unable to withstand the crushing weight of his aura. Even the strongest among them—warriors and cultivators who had reached the Deity Realm—were brought low, their faces contorted with strain as they struggled to breathe under the suffocating pressure.

Some trembled, others dared not even raise their heads to look upon the figure who had appeared.

This man was El, one of the Overlords of the Heavens, a being whose influence spanned across realms and planes. His presence alone was a force to be reckoned with, his power so great that even other Overlords feared to cross him. His sharp, piercing eyes scanned the trembling figures below, but his expression was one of barely-contained fury.

El's brow furrowed, his jaw clenched as the chaos around him unfolded. The ground buckled and cracked beneath his feet, small fissures spreading outward like a spider's web. His fists tightened at his sides, crackling with divine energy as if he was moments away from unleashing it. The air around him seemed to shimmer, distorting under the sheer weight of his presence.

Despite his calm demeanor, the energy radiating from him betrayed his fury. His eyes, glowing with a cold, divine light, narrowed as they swept over the horizon. The once serene Celestial Plane now quaked under the disturbance, and El's mind raced, piecing together the cause of the sudden chaos.

Behind him, the celestial guards, once proud and unflinching in their duty, were now on their hands and knees, beads of sweat rolling down their foreheads. Some grunted, trying to rise but failing as the oppressive force continued to weigh them down.

A low murmur spread through the ranks of those still conscious, a mixture of awe and fear. El's mere arrival had silenced any resistance, and whispers spread like wildfire. This was the man who held sway over entire planes, the Overlord whose name invoked reverence and terror alike.

As he stood, his broad shoulders rigid and his long silver hair blowing in the violent winds, El exhaled slowly, attempting to rein in his temper. But even as he tried to calm himself, the ground around him quaked and crackled, the sheer magnitude of his power straining the very fabric of the realm.

One of the celestial beings near him, a lieutenant, dared to raise his head just enough to stammer, "M-My Lord... the heavens... they're being torn apart... by... something. We—we don't know how or why..."

El's eyes flickered dangerously, and in an instant, the lieutenant lowered his head again, too frightened to continue. El said nothing in response, but the tightening of his jaw and the subtle twitch of his brow spoke volumes. His thoughts were already racing. Who would dare attack the Heavens? Whoever it was, they were powerful enough to cause this level of destruction—and bold enough to provoke him.

The very idea of someone challenging his domain sent a fresh wave of anger surging through him. His teeth ground together, the air around him humming with tension as his aura flared up, momentarily pushing out further, causing even the distant buildings to groan under the strain.

Despite his fury, El's face remained eerily calm, his expression cold and calculating. He wasn't one to act recklessly, no matter how much rage simmered beneath the surface. Whoever was responsible would pay dearly, but first, he needed to understand the full extent of what was happening.

With a single wave of his hand, the pressure on those around him lessened just enough for them to rise shakily to their feet. They stood with their heads bowed, too afraid to meet his gaze.

"Prepare yourselves," El commanded, his voice low but carrying enough weight to send a shiver through the spines of everyone present. His eyes burned with determination. "This will not go unanswered."

As he turned his gaze to the sky, where the echoes of chaos still reverberated, his expression darkened. This was no simple disturbance. Something far more sinister was at play.

And El was ready to tear apart whatever, or whoever, stood in his way.

The entire Celestial Plane was in chaos. The earth-shattering blow from Jack's staff had caused massive fissures to snake through the ground, creating a violent tremor that rippled throughout the Heavens. Everywhere, people screamed in confusion and fear as the very foundation of their existence began to crack beneath their feet.

In a secluded chamber, an old woman sat calmly amidst the uproar. She wasn't physically old, appearing no more than in her late fifties, but her ancient eyes betrayed the countless eons she had lived. Her demeanor was stoic, her body still, though her mind raced with the knowledge of the inevitable.

"This is Ragnarok," she muttered, her voice heavy with the weight of prophecy. Her eyes, sharp and weary, gazed distantly toward the horizon, where the tremors seemed to ripple through the sky itself. "The time for the Heavens to fall has come, and there is no way to stop it."

A sudden burst of energy disrupted the quiet, as a young girl, her apprentice, stumbled into the room, trembling. Her eyes were wide with panic, her movements frantic as she clutched a bag overflowing with hastily packed clothes and supplies. "I-I packed everything, Mistress," the girl stammered, her voice shaking.

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"Clothes, food, everything we might need..." She looked at her teacher with wide, terrified eyes, the kind of fear that was almost childlike in its innocence.

The woman, despite the gravity of the situation, allowed a faint smile to touch her lips, amused by her disciple's naivety in the face of such destruction. The girl's hands were trembling, her face pale. The bags she held looked absurd in contrast to the magnitude of what was happening around them.

The woman gently raised a hand, her long, delicate fingers motioning for the girl to come closer. "Child," she said softly, her voice both kind and sorrowful, "packing our things won't save us."

The girl froze, her heart pounding. Her lips quivered as she processed her mentor's words, and slowly, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "But..." she whispered, barely audible, "we can still try to run, right? We can... escape?"

The woman let out a long, weary sigh, her eyes softening as she gazed at her disciple. "No," she said, her tone heavy with resignation. "No matter where we go, Ragnarok will follow. It is not something we can flee from. I have seen every possible future, and in none do we escape this."

The words struck the girl like a hammer. Her legs gave out from beneath her, and she collapsed to the floor, clutching her bag like it was her last connection to any sense of control. Her eyes filled with tears, not just of fear but of helplessness. "So… we just wait for death?" she asked, her voice small, trembling, like a child asking for comfort they knew wouldn't come.

The old woman's expression softened further, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She knelt beside her disciple, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder, the touch both grounding and heartbreaking. "I'm afraid so," she admitted, her voice gentle but firm, the weight of millennia behind her words. "But we can still hope for the best."

The girl's tears began to fall freely now, silently dripping onto the floor as she stared blankly ahead. Her hands clenched tightly around the useless bag in her lap, as if holding onto it could stave off the inevitable.

The woman stood, moving gracefully toward the window. The light outside was dimming, the horizon no longer bright and serene but marred by the growing cracks in the heavens. She gazed out, her eyes scanning the trembling skies, her lips pressed into a thin line.

There was a sadness in her gaze, a deep sorrow that even she, someone who had survived countless eras and witnessed the rise and fall of realms, was powerless.

In her heart, she wondered. Who could possibly possess the power to bring down the Heavens themselves? What kind of being could orchestrate such destruction?

For the first time in a long while, she felt fear—not for herself, but for everything that was.

Elsewhere

A man sat in one of twelve grand thrones, each radiating a different aura of immense power. His presence alone caused the air to hum with energy, a force so intense that even the walls of the celestial hall seemed to tremble in his wake. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the empty seats with growing impatience.

His fingers drummed against the armrest, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

"Who do you think is responsible for this?" he asked, his voice deep and resonant, echoing through the vast chamber. He leaned forward slightly, his brows furrowing. "And where are the others? This isn't a time for tardiness." His tone was sharp, irritated by the absence of the other council members.

A woman, seated across from him, met his gaze steadily. She exuded an equally commanding aura, her presence an unmistakable force. Her long, flowing robes shimmered like stardust, and her eyes—ancient and knowing—glowed with a calm understanding of the chaos unfolding around them.

"The message may not have reached them yet," she replied smoothly, her voice calm despite the tension in the air. "And as for who is responsible… the voice we heard earlier—it can only belong to the One Above All."

The man's brow furrowed even deeper. His fingers stopped drumming, his body going rigid as confusion crossed his face. "But I don't understand," he muttered, shaking his head. "The Ashuras... they had him killed before he could reach his full potential. How could he—"

The woman sighed softly, her gaze distant for a moment, as though considering the weight of her own words. "And yet here we are," she said quietly. "He is back, and this time, I fear there is nothing we can do to escape him."

Her voice carried a solemn finality, and the man sat back in his throne, a look of deep concern flickering across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a sudden shift in the atmosphere caught their attention.

One of the empty seats, shimmering with an ethereal glow, suddenly became occupied. A young woman appeared, her entrance silent yet commanding. Her presence was subtle but undeniable, her power radiating from her in waves, though her expression remained serene. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, flickered briefly as she assessed the room.

"Unless," she spoke, her voice cool and smooth, "we give him what he wants."

The two others turned toward her, the man raising an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "And what exactly does he want?" he asked, his voice low, almost wary of her answer.

Her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. She crossed her legs, her movements graceful and deliberate, as though she were in complete control of the situation.

"The girl with true immortality," she replied simply, her tone devoid of emotion. Her words hung in the air, cold and unyielding.

The man's jaw clenched slightly as he absorbed her statement. His eyes flickered with recognition, though he remained silent. The woman across from him, however, inhaled sharply, her serene composure faltering for just a moment. She glanced at the newly arrived figure, her eyes narrowing in thought.

"And do you think that will be enough?" the first woman asked, her voice laced with doubt.

The young woman's smile widened ever so slightly, her gaze steady and unblinking. "It is the only chance we have," she replied, her voice steady, almost chilling in its certainty.

The man exhaled slowly, his mind racing. The weight of the decision was crushing, the consequences unfathomable. He exchanged a glance with the others, their faces betraying their shared unease.

The One Above All was back, and he wanted blood.